


Fort Disaster Mountain

by Kittytoastnjam



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Camping, Established Relationship, I Can't Make This Up, M/M, Murphy's Law, Pets, Set in Texas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittytoastnjam/pseuds/Kittytoastnjam
Summary: “Daichi, you remember that time at Ren Fest, where we were camping and I was allergic to everything and we had no medicine and I couldn’t breathe or sleep since I couldn’t breathe?”“Yeah?”“This is worse than that."
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Fort Disaster Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could say this story is fictional, but it's 99% unfiltered truth and 1% slight exaggeration for the sake of storytelling. It was just too good to pass up for making Daichi and Suga suffer.

Suga and Daichi are camping professionals, if Suga does say so. 

There was the two week camping trip across the country they had done two years ago. Day trips around the state. They have camped in the Texas heat, in the frigid Montana fall, in the wind and while sick. They have the equipment, adventurous inclinations, and the cute SUV. 

They have yet to be defeated by nature. 

They are cocky. 

  
  


1 DAY PRIOR

“You got the heater, right?” Suga asks as he cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear. “It’s supposed to be below freezing at night.”

“Yeees, babe, I got it. You just need to get the propane,” Daichi returns. The sounds of his truck kicking up gravel is almost overpowering. He won’t be off work until much later, leaving Suga to do the daytime planning. “Do you need me to get anything else on my way home?” he shouts over the road noise. 

Suga finishes the last of the oatmeal breakfast pouches. Damn, this is fucking pro. “I think we’ve got everything!” he chirps. “I’ll just start packing everything up and you can load it up when you get off.”

“Wink.”

“You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but you like me.” 

Of course it makes Suga grin into the phone. “I guess I do. I’ll see you when you get home.”

They say their goodbyes and Suga turns to address their dog, who is still high from his visit to the vet earlier that day. “You ready to go camping, Pochiiiii?” he coos. The tan husky-mix regards him with sleepy eyes and a plaintive whimper. He isn’t usually so whiny, but the vet visit this time seems to have done a number on his mental health. Nothing some time hiking won’t fix; Pochi loves hiking. In fact, they all could use the getaway. 

With COVID restrictions, Suga and Daichi, like most, have been cooped up at home for far too long. Their wedding ceremony had been canceled along with their honeymoon. They had to get married by a judge on Zoom, which is not the elopement Suga would have chosen. Daichi with his tendency to pick up respiratory infections has to be extra careful but still has to report to work. They _need_ this trip. Camping is one of the few things that feels safe enough to leave the house to do, and this weekend is the once-in-400-years conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn. They’ll be so far out from civilization and light pollution that they’ll have a great view. So what if it’s December and it’ll be below freezing at night in the middle of the Texas desert? They’d survived- nay, thrived- in the freezing mornings of Yellowstone and Glacier parks (in some digital cloud somewhere there is a picture of Suga sitting in the tent the first morning in the Grand Tetons. He wears a thousand-yard stare and is cocooned in every blanket they own, but if it’s not in print it didn’t happen). 

Suga pets Pochi for a minute before he resumes his pre-camping duties. Speaking of blankets, he’d better pull out their extras. He busies himself organizing the equipment in the garage so it’ll be easy to load up when Daichi gets home. After so many camping trips, they’ve accumulated a system. All their loose equipment is in boxes: kitchenware in one, fire starting and miscellaneous things in another. Their sleeping bags and mats are stacked together, and they’re ready to elevate their experience this time with air mattresses, also boxed and ready to go. Satisfied, he surveys the pile which appears to have everything. Tent, check. Cooler, check. Sleep stuff, kitchen stuff, check and check. 

_Professional as fuck._

Suga is still packing his clothes when Daichi finally gets off work. Daichi is a glorified state park ranger- of course he loves doing this outdoorsy shit. “I’m home,” he calls, unlacing his boots and removing his duty belt with a groan. “What else do we still have to do?” 

Suga pops his head out from the bedroom. “I think just packing your clothes and loading everything. Welcome home by the way.” Daichi follows him into their bedroom and wraps him in a hug that Suga entertains for five seconds before he starts to wiggle. “Get back to work,” Suga orders, though he accepts the welcome-home kiss. 

“But I want to play video games,” Daichi grumbles. 

“After we’re done.”

“Fiiiiine.”

It takes Suga longer to pack, of course. By the time he has his entire face routine packed- the last but arguably most important thing- Daichi is curled up on the recliner with the PS4 controller in hand. It’s barely 11pm. Suga’s regular work shift is until 2am these days, so he’s not even sleepy yet. “What time is your alarm set?” he asks as he plops down at the computer. 

Without pausing, Daichi replies, “7:30. I’ll walk Pochi and then we can leave by 8. It’s a seven hour drive so we should get there before it starts getting dark. Sound good?”

Ew. Suga hasn’t seen a sunrise since he left night shift, but he sighs, “Yeah, that sounds good.” It doesn’t, but Daichi wants to drive so Suga doesn’t really have a place to complain about the hour. He can sleep during the trip if he wants. “You sure you don’t want me to help drive?” Suga offers out of politeness but not actual desire to do so. 

Daichi scoffs, “You’re never driving again.”

“Are you still salty about that time in Wyoming?”

Finally Daichi pauses the game only to fix Suga with a skeptical raised eyebrow. “The time you almost killed us by flipping the car off the road?”

Still salty. 

It gets Suga out of driving duty at least. It wasn’t his fault that for some god-forsaken reason the tiny two-lane highways in Wyoming are surrounded by sheer ditches instead of a shoulder. Maybe it’s his fault for not looking before he panicked and tried to avoid the giant piece of farm equipment coming at them. “We didn’t die!” he reiterates. “And those nice farmers stopped to help us.”

He sees the grin on Daichi’s face grow wider as he turns back to his game. Suga can easily sacrifice his pride if it gets him out of early morning driving duty. 

Especially since Suga is still awake by the time 2am rolls around. 

“Sleeeeep, damn it,” he groans to himself as he stares at the dark ceiling. To his right, Daichi is out like a light and has been for almost two hours. Suga has a bad habit of calculating how many hours of sleep he’s getting when he lays down. _Five and a half,_ he notes, as if the reminder will help him fall asleep and not give him anxiety about _not_ falling asleep. He thinks through all of his creative projects still pending that he can work on during the drive. He tries and fails to not think about work. He opens his phone and reads webcomics until his eyes finally droop. 3:15am. _Four hours, fifteen minutes._ No big deal, he’ll just sleep on the road. 

  
  


7:30AM

  
  


“Uuuuuuuuggggggghhhhh.”

Suga drags himself out of bed and to the coffee pot following the deafening blare of Daichi’s alarm. 

True to his plan, Daichi takes the dog out while Suga contemplates his life choices that have led him to being awake so early. Why does time pass so quickly when half-asleep? He barely made it into the bathroom with his coffee cup when Daichi and Pochi return fifteen minutes later. “You alright?” his husband questions seeing Suga’s dead-eyed reflection as he passes through the bathroom to the closet. 

“Just… waking up,” he growls. This is code for, _Leave me alone,_ which Daichi recognizes if his quick and quiet retreat is any indication. 

By the miracle of pre-planning, Suga manages to throw on his clothes and take his bags to the garage by 8am. Coffee downed, teeth brushed, warm boots on. Suga is so ready for this drive. He is even too tired to redo Daichi’s packing job in the car (not arranged to maximum effectiveness, but whatever). More concerning than non-tetrised equipment is the dog, still inside, crying and scratching at the door. 

“Do you think he’s gonna be alright?” Daichi asks with a nod toward the house. “He’s not usually like this.”

“Uum. I think so!” Suga replies with all the optimism he can summon on four hours and change of sleep. “It’s nothing a full three days with us won’t fix.” As if to prove his point, he goes back into the house and tries to smother the anxious dog with hugs that he shies away from. Jerk. 

This is when his eyes land on the two oversized packages in the corner. He swears and runs back outside. “Daichi,” he simpers with his sweetest voice. 

“What did you forget?”

Damn, they’ve been together too long. “I need to take these packages to the post office or my brother and nephew won’t get their Christmas gifts in time,” he sighs. “The postage is already on! I just have to run it in.”

Daichi hums his agreement but his dubious gaze falls on the little SUV. “You’ll have to hold the boxes. There’s no space once the dog goes in.” As if on cue, Pochi scratches at the door. 

It’s over two feet of cardboard between the two boxes in Suga’s lap when the car starts moving. He can’t see a god damn thing. If they get into an accident in the five minute drive to the post office, these boxes are going straight through his chest. They don’t, thankfully. In fact, for the first time in Ever, Suga walks into the post office and hands off the packages to the employee in less than one minute. It puts a smile on his face; it’s a good omen for the trip. If they’ve been blessed at the post office, they are truly Blessed. 

They get gas and breakfast and are on the road by 8:30, another miracle. With the sun shining and whatever serial killer podcasts Daichi likes playing, Suga isn’t even feeling sleepy. He opens his iPad, cracks open his energy drink and begins to write. 

1:00PM

“The dog won’t stop crying.”

Suga is loathe to admit that Daichi is correct. Normally, Pochi loves rides. ‘Ride!’ is one of his trigger words. This ride, however, does not seem to be doing it for him. Every time they stop, he cries. He’s been walked at each stop, but he won’t pee. He cries more. Suga isn’t ready to admit that bringing the dog could have been a mistake. “He’ll be fine once we get there,” he assures. His heart isn’t in it. 

Daichi talks about how much easier it’ll be to camp with a dog when they can afford a travel trailer. He spends fifteen minutes pointing out the pros and cons of each trailer, truck, and RV they pass. 

4:30PM

The approach into the park- Davis Mountains- is… underwhelming. 

“This looks like the kind of place where people sit around complaining about Hispanic people,” Daichi mutters. The number of dilapidated mobile homes boasting Trump flags they've passed on this drive is way too high. 

“I do get the feeling we might get kidnapped if we turn down the wrong road,” Suga admits, though the feeling is probably a result of hours of podcasts and discussion about heinous murders. They’re only a ten minute drive from the park entrance, though, and they forgot to bring foil, so they have to stop. Daichi runs into the first store they see while Suga stays with Pochi (only a few small whines, an improvement). He locks the door and profiles the people coming to and from the Family Dollar on their likelihood of being serial killers. 

When Daichi returns he looks chipper and remarks, “At least camping is going to be fun.” His confidence is infectious. They leave the sketchy Family Dollar and turn the only corner of the tiny town, which takes them into the much more touristy main street. It’s actually kind of cute. “That’s the old school drugstore my coworker said we should go to at some point,” Daichi says as he points to the wood cabin building on their left. Daichi’s coworkers are the types of people who love travelling to backwoods towns, camping, and shooting things. They are also the type of people who force Daichi into the closet not about being gay, but being liberal. They probably own nice homes boasting Trump flags. 

“Yeah, the mountains look pretty,” Suga offers with a smile. The park in the distance _is_ pretty, in a deserty sort of way. The mountains here aren’t anything close to the mountains of the Rocky Mountain Range, of course, but they’re painted in soothing hues of tan and pink and green. 

The rangers at the entrance are a sweet older couple who give them extra charcoal and maps. “No wood fires,” they regret to inform. “We’re still in a burn ban.”

It’s unfortunate since it won’t be as warm or romantic, but they eventually take the charcoal and slow roll to their tent site. Suga is the one who reserved the site, and they are close to the bathroom, just across a dry, rocky creek bed through which previous campers have already blazed a trail. Perfect. “This info page the ranger gave us says the showers have hot water,” Suga reads aloud, seeking praise which Daichi, bless him, gives. 

“This is a good spot,” he assures as he backs into their home away from home. Their first order of business is to get the crying dog outside so that, maybe, he will stop crying. They quickly discover that the ground is too soft and gravelly to hold the stake for Pochi’s extra long camping lead. “Um… we’ll just tie it around this picnic bench,” Daichi decides with slightly forced nonchalance. Pochi does a quick and tense lap of the site, sniffing every bush, then sits to whine. 

“This fucking dog,” Suga huffs as he sets about to help Daichi pull their equipment from the trunk. Maybe the four hours and change of sleep is catching up to him. 

“He’ll feel better when we have the tent set up,” Daichi assures. Suga isn’t sure but lets himself believe in his husband’s positivity. 

The two unload with the ease of professional campers- which they are. Daichi lays out the tent and calls, “Can you bring me the mallet and stakes?” 

“Got it!” Suga retrieves the long canvas bag and digs out the mallet from the fire-and-miscellaneous-tools box. He jogs it over to Daichi and hands it off with a kiss. The drive may have been a little rocky between a crying dog, sad towns and Trump flags, but they were here and were unstoppable. Renewed, Suga resumes unloading as Daichi tears into the stakes. 

“Hey, Suga?”

“Yup.”

“These are the tent poles,” he says, holding up the skinny retractable poles. “Did you see the bag with the stakes?”

Ooooh.

Suga digs through boxes with more fervor. All of his fervor does not make tent stakes appear. “Soooo, we might have forgotten stakes,” he replies finally. 

They meet eyes in silence. Well, Pochi whines in the background, so, almost silence. Daichi slaps a hand over his face and laughs. The tension in Suga’s shoulders eases and he laughs too. “Okay,” Daichi brainstorms, surveying the campsite. “We can totally weigh down the corners with rocks.”

“Why don’t you go into town and see if a store has any stakes?” Suga suggests instead. “I’ll stay here with the dog and try to set up what I can without you.”

“Ohh, nice. Yeah, let’s do that!” Daichi bounces over to the car and shoves Suga’s phone and mask into his hands. “Here, in case you need to call or talk to anyone here.” 

Suga pockets them in his sweatpants and shoos the other man off to the store. Pochi is disturbed by the sudden absence of one of his parents and cries. Suga takes a picture and- oh. There’s no cell service here. He hopes they don’t need to call 911 for anything. 

He sets about arranging the tent (which is inside out after their pine-infested trip to the Renaissance Festival), runs the poles but can’t lift it entirely by himself. Well, that’s about the extent of what he can do. The matches are still in the car so no fire. He shivers and sits at the picnic table. The internet wasn't kidding about the temperature dropping fast in the desert. He pulls open a note document and types with one hand and pets their anxious mess of a dog with the other. 

Daichi isn’t long and he tries to pull a fast one by adopting a long face when he disembarks the car. His triumphant grin breaks through a few seconds into his attempt at a prank and he holds up the tent stakes. Suga applauds. 

“You didn’t get very far,” Daichi then says, taking in the flat tent. 

Suga scowls, “Well, it’s too big for me to do by myself.” 

Realizing his erroneous statement to an emotionally volatile and sleep-deprived individual, Daichi gives him a mollifying hug. They raise the tent and Daichi sets about staking the corners with their shiny new stakes. “So, I noticed this with Pochi’s lead, but the ground is super soft,” Daichi worries once he’s finished. “If it’s windy at all, I don’t think this is going to stay down.” 

Suga rubs his eyes and sighs. It hasn’t been windy but he’s starting to wonder about their luck on this trip. Did he use it all up at the post office? Already their professionalism points have gone down. Forgetting the tent stakes is a rookie mistake. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he hopes. 

6:30PM

They take Pochi on a walk around the campsite and ponder what is wrong with him when he still doesn’t pee. The poor guy hasn’t been able to relax at all since they’ve stopped. They agree no more camping for him. 

“I’m soooo hungry,” Suga groans when they get back to their site. Initially he lets Pochi wander around tied to his lead, but when the neurotic animal twitches at every tiny rustle in the brush he gives up and puts him back in the car. Pochi seems happier there. 

“Want me to start dinner?” Daichi offers and Suga heartily agrees. He works on uncorking his wine while his husband unfurls their Family Dollar foil and packs it with their pre-planned dinner. Suga shrugs on his puffy jacket, sets up their camp chairs and sinks into one adjacent to the tiny charcoal fire, overfilled plastic cup in hand. Daichi retrieves a beer for himself and joins him. “Finally,” he groans. 

“Agreed.” It’s getting dark and it’s barely 7pm. “It’s like, weirdly quiet, isn’t it?” Suga marvels. The scuttle of ground squirrels and birds had ceased in the twilight.

“We don’t have anyone on either side of us. I think that’s why,” Daichi says with a nod at the closest people two sites away. 

“Hmm, perfect for murdering.”

“So you’ve caught on.”

Suga giggles. There couldn’t be anyone further from the profile of a serial killer than Daichi Sawamura. He hazards a glance upward and gasps, “Daichi! Look!” They fall into a hushed awe. 

Above them, the spray of stars beginning to twinkle overhead, is magnificent. 

The sky is still light at the edges but there are more stars already than they could ever see from their city home. It’s almost unreal. Daichi hurriedly doles out their dinner then turns off their lantern so they can take in the sky as they eat. “Can you recognize anything?” Daichi asks. “You took some kind of astronomy class, right?”

“Uhh, like ten years ago,” Suga mumbles. “Let’s see.” He drags his hazel eyes across the increasing smattering of lights. Was that one, like, the swan maybe? Should they be able to see the dippers at this time? “Um… nope, I got nothing.”

“I just assume every set of three stars I see is Orion, so that’s all I know.”

“Alright! Let’s download one of those constellation apps when we have service tomorrow.” They probably should’ve done that earlier. They’d also forgotten their red light lamp which would’ve been handy right about now. No big deal: there was probably an app for that too. When they had service… 

They huddle together in contented silence, surrounded by the arms of the galaxy in the sky above. Suga sips at his wine and… wishes it was a little warmer. “Holy shit, it’s cold,” he mutters. “I’m getting a blanket.” 

“I’m still warm,” Daichi with his higher muscle mass boasts. 

Suga scoffs behind his back but it’s not serious. “How you doing baby?” he croons at Pochi when he opens the car hatch to retrieve a blanket. Pochi, the most relaxed he has been since this ordeal began, lifts his head from where he’s curled up in the back seat. He does not use his words and only offers a judgmental look that seems to ask, ‘Why are we still here?’

Suga, who cannot interpret silent dog stares, calls to his husband, “Should I try and see if Pochi will sit with us?” 

“Yeah! I’ll hold onto him,” Daichi answers, sealing the dog’s fate. Blanket and anxious leashed dog in hands, Suga returns to their huddle. His wine cup is perfectly chilled now, and he grasps it in blanketed hands. They drink a while longer in moonlight; it’s a waning crescent but it’s blinding in the pitch darkness. Daichi returns the dog to the car when, after five minutes, it becomes clear that he is Not Happy outside. Eventually they, too, become uncomfortable in the plummeting temperature. 

“Time to set up the heater,” Daichi declares, rising with a shiver. “I’ll get Pochi’s bed.”

“I’m gonna go take a shower then,” Suga replies as he follows the other man to the tent so he can gather his (extensive) shower items. He has a plan: he’ll take all of his warmest outerwear to throw over his flannel pajamas once he’s showered, along with his hair dryer so he can have dry hair before he steps foot outside. He’ll sleep better when he’s clean and toasty; the shower is non negotiable. 

Daichi shoots him a dubious look. “It’ll be fine,” Suga adds in response to Daichi’s questioning eye, “there’s hot water.” With this hope in mind, he sets off into the frigid darkness with his serviceless brick as a flashlight. 

The bathroom is warmed, and Suga breathes a relieved sigh. It should make the process of undressing slightly less miserable. He lays out his belongings in the order he will need to grab them once he’s finished: towel, socks, underwear… 

“Shit,” he complains to the empty tile room. Rookie mistake number two: no shower shoes. He contemplates showering with socks on so as to reduce his odds of contracting some foot-borne fungus, but the longer he stands here the colder he is becoming. “Fuck it,” he grumbles as he peels off his socks and cranks the water to hot as he finishes stripping. 

‘Hot,’ it turns out, is relative. 

Naked and shivering he probes the stream with his finger. Despair works his way into his belly. The shower has been running for a couple of minutes and it is lukewarm at best. Desperate, he waits another minute before it becomes clear that this is as hot as it gets. The shower suddenly seems negotiable: he could redress and shower tomorrow, when the sun has had a chance to warm the pipes, or he could power through since he’s already naked. 

Suga inhales and steps into the shower. 

“Oh my fucking god,” he gasps. This is decidedly _not_ hot. He’s pretty sure his body just tried to revert to biologically female because of how not hot this water is. He reaches for his shampoo and drops it due to the force of his full-body shivering. Uttering a litany of curses he retrieves the wayward bottle. It is the fastest shower he’s ever taken in his life and he’s never been happier to turn off the water. He’s probably burned calories from shaking. 

He dries and dresses in record time and thank god for these flannel pajamas and fuzzy socks. When he plugs in the hair dryer he spends several minutes with the barrel turned on his body. There will be no point or opportunity to figure out what to do with his bangs but he doesn’t care. Daichi will tease him for looking like a fluffy mop but so be it. At least he is a warm mop. 

When he’s finally chased away the last remnants of cold he slows his frantic pace. He’s actually quite bolstered by the time he has brushed his teeth and prepared to trek back to the tent. At least Daichi will have had the heater running this entire time, and Suga personally packed the warmest blankets they own. They’ll bundle up in their sleeping bags and talk until they fall asleep, which, wow, that four hours and change of sleep is really catching up to him now. 

Suga is carefully picking his way up the rocky creek bed to the tent site when Daichi, having heard his footsteps, yells out, “The tent almost caught on fire.”

“What?” Suga gasps as he speeds up his pace and ducks into the stone cold tent.

This is not a space which has been warmed by a heater for the last twenty minutes. Daichi looks up at him with a sheepish shrug. He’s laying in his sleeping bag with a blanket up to his chin and doesn’t move as Suga investigates. “I dunno! The heater, like, caught fire! I had to turn it off and it did it again so I’ve been too nervous to turn it back on.”

“Nooooo,” Suga moaned as sank to his knees in front of the offending appliance. “I’ll try it. The instructions said sometimes if it’s dusty it’ll look more fiery.” The pilot light catches like it should. Suga holds his hands out to the area in front of its grill. For a minute it’s fine and he starts to relax- then he squeaks when it pops and the flame sparks way too high and doesn’t die off. Hurriedly he tips it off. 

“Like that,” Daichi says. 

“Fuuuuuck. How are we going to sleep in this?” Suga frets. “Are the blankets going to be enough? Seriously, this sucks. We should get a bigger heater for next time. What if we freeze to death?”

Daichi rolls his eyes and a wry little smile pulls at his lips. “We won’t freeze to death,” he assures. “We’ll just have to cuddle.”

Damn that earnest man and how easily he can redirect Suga’s anxieties. Suga doesn’t offer verbal sentiments as often as Daichi, who is easily the more sappy between the two of them. He crosses his arms as if thinking about it but concedes with a grin. “You know, even if this is a freezing hellscape, I’m kinda having fun. Because we’re together.”

Beaming, Daichi opens his mouth to reply when they both hear a loud noise, outside and uncomfortably close to their tent. They share a wide-eyed look when the noise repeats. “Do you hear that?” Daichi whispers unnecessarily. 

Suga nods. He’d thought for a split second that maybe it was a person passing by their site on the way to the bathroom, but this is quickly ruled out because he has already used up their luck at the post office a lifetime/twelve hours ago. It’s a sort of snuffling snort that is unmistakable despite that he has never once encountered the animal that makes such a noise. “That totally sounds like a hog, right?” he whispers back. Everything he has ever heard about hogs is that they’re unrepentant assholes and absolutely will kill a person. Plus, he’s seen ‘Old Yeller’ and he did not travel over seven hours to get gored by a jerk of a pig, damn it . 

Pochi the dog cries, but to their ears it sounds accusatory. ‘I tried to warn you,’ he whines as he pads around the tent. Most of their wildlife research has been centered around what to do if encountering a bear. Never had Suga ever thought he’d need to know what to do in the event that his flimsy canvas tent is apparently surrounded by wild pigs. Daichi’s tipsy mind is clearly in a panic since he leaps to his feet, claps several times and shouts, “Go away!” 

It’s too much; Suga assumes a tornado-safety crouch in the middle of the tent and laughs, “I’m going to die here.”

“I’m going to go outside and scare them off,” Daichi declares. 

“What—! No!” Suga protests from the floor where he makes absolutely no move to help. “I think if we just stay quiet they’ll go away.”

His husband is determined and brave and half drunk, though, and unzips the tent. Suga hears him clap a few times and yell a few more empty threats. The hog(s?) seem unperturbed. Suga hears the snorting behind the tent increase, and along with it his fear that Daichi’s death by hog-goring is imminent. A moment later the other man stumbles back in and stammers, “There’s more than one.”

Suga is reminded of the scene in the original Jurassic Park where the kids are hiding from raptors in the kitchen as he, Daichi, and their vindicated dog huddle anxiously in the middle of the freezing tent. The snuffling seems to grow louder and moves along the perimeter. Somehow, Suga cannot find it in himself to be truly terrified, or maybe he’s just in shock. He supposes his reaction is due to the nature of his job, which is centered around other peoples’ crises. Getting killed by a pack of pigs is something that happens to _other_ people. He tries to imagine the headline: _Wildly Unprepared Gay Hipsters Gored by Hogs_. There’s probably an op-ed in the shitty local paper about how they should’ve known it was hog season in the fucking Texas mountains. When is hog season? What the fuck is he even thinking about right now?

“Suga,” Daichi whispers. “Let’s make a run for the car.”

“I don’t have shoes on,” he replies automatically, though he realizes how stupid that sounds the second it leaves his mouth. He reaches for his boots and, after a second thought, he grabs the next three steps in his face routine and shoves the products into his jacket pockets. The frigid desert air is absolutely sapping the moisture from his skin and he will be damned if these fucking pigs keep him from leaving behind a pretty corpse. 

“Okay, I’ll take the dog, you just get in,” Daichi volunteers bravely as he leashes their pacing pet and brandishes the car keys. 

“Didn’t you bring a gun?”

“It’s in the car!” 

Of course. Suga positions himself by the exit and chuckles, “I can’t believe this.” He also can’t believe he actually runs the few feet to the car like some sort of horror movie protagonist and whips around expecting a herd of pigs to emerge from the darkness. There looks to be nothing, but the dramatic lighting from the car unlocking blinds him anyway, so what does he know? He gets in, then the dog, and finally Daichi who cranks on the engine. The time blinks on the console: 

9:45PM

The couple sits in stunned silence for a minute. Daichi looks at Suga, a slow smile spreading across his face. “What the fuck?” he says and then they’re laughing the sort of watery, uproarious laugh of two people who had really believed they’d been about to be ripped open by hogs. 

Suga clutches the dashboard as he laughs, which is when he notices the informational flyer and maps the ranger had given to them a lifetime ago. “Hey, look,” he gasps as he flips on the dome light and grabs the flyer which features a drawing of… “Maybe it’s a _javelina?_ ” Based on the picture, a _javelina_ is a little hog with smaller tusks. Suga privately thinks it looks kind of cute and harmless. There’s no other information on the flyer about them: just a useless warning to watch out for wildlife. 

Daichi squints at the picture. “Can you google it so we can try and figure out what to do?”

Suga waves his expensive brick and reminds him, “No service.” 

“Shit, I totally forgot.”

“I hope we don’t need an ambulance because we get gored by _javelinas_.”

Daichi groans and reclines his chair, which in turn makes Pochi groan too. He scratches placatingly behind his ears. “Please don’t put that evil on us, Suga,” he pleads with a grin. Maybe he realizes that Suga used up all of their luck at the post office and knocks three times on the vinyl door to satisfy the universe’s sadistic urges. 

Suga divests his pockets of his face products and situates himself more comfortably in the passenger seat. The warmth of the car and the declining adrenaline is catching up with him. “So, how long should we wait here?” he asks as he begins to apply step three to his face. 

There is a sheepish grin on Daichi’s face as he rolls onto his side. “I feel like a wuss for saying this, but maybe we should just... sleep in the car?” 

“Seriously?” 

Daichi shrugs. “I mean, kinda?” They’ve just spent over seven hours in the car. Suga’s ass can attest that the passenger seat leaves something to be desired. He contemplates the pros and cons while he puts more moisturizer on his face and hands. “It’ll be warmeeer,” Daichi wheedles.

Suga folds like a house of cards. “Well, I’d rather be a wuss than dead. But we’re going to have to get the rest of the blankets from the tent,” he negotiates. “And my pillow. You should flip the car around to face the tent, too.” 

“I’ve been drinking,” Daichi reminds as he straightens his seat. 

“We’re driving two feet.” 

Daichi hums his acknowledgment and puts the SUB in reverse. “I guess I _am_ feeling pretty sober after all of that.” 

Suga snorts and they plan their approach: Daichi will run up first to unzip the tent, then when he has an armful of blankets, he’ll hand them off to Suga who will take them back to the car. It shouldn’t take more than two tries, and then they can retreat to safety. Daichi counts them down and dashes, and less than two minutes later the couple is back in the car with everything they need to sleep. This is, of course, when they realize the poor, cramped dog will need space too. Like the heroic martyr he is, Daichi sacrifices his safety to rearrange the hatch for Pochi. Pochi is unimpressed with this arrangement and whines at them over the backseat with piteous round eyes. 

“Shut up, Pochi,” Suga chastises. “No one is happy about this arrangement but it’s what’s happening.” He feels bad for being annoyed, but their dog grumbles, sighs, and circles down into his bed as if he understands. Suga organizes his blankets with noises of complaint and lays out to stare at the roof. 

“Wanna have sex?” 

Suga turns to face Daichi with wrathful incredulity. The other man is grinning at his own joke which makes Suga lower his hackles just a little. “Shut the fuck up,” he huffs, to his husband’s continued amusement. “You remember that time at Ren Fest, where we were camping and I was allergic to everything and we had no medicine and I couldn’t breathe or sleep since I couldn’t breathe?”

“Yeah?”

“This is worse than that. I love you. Good night.” 

11:27PM

Sleep (the seat won’t lay completely flat and it hurts his lower back. Suga tries to roll on his side).

2:43AM

Is (Suga takes one of Daichi’s blankets).

4:30AM

Relative (Suga takes the last extra blanket, totaling four blankets).

6:10AM

(Daichi’s higher muscle mass has failed him and he turns on the car).

7:40AM

(Suga is sweating. He realizes Daichi fell asleep and the car has been running for over an hour. Rather than turn it off, he wakes up Daichi, who blearily flips it off).

9:15AM

The sun beams in through the windows and Suga cracks open his eyes. Lord, he can feel how puffy they are already. Seeking validation of his hideousness, he flips down the visor mirror and cringes. In the driver’s seat, Daichi stirs and yawns. “Oh, hey babe,” he greets with a dopey morning smile. “How did you sleep?”

“I didn’t.” That’s not really true, but Suga is prodding his face and trying to figure out what the hell is happening to his hair, so maybe he feels a little vindictive. 

Blessed Daichi with his helpful, unwavering attitude offers a sympathetic noise and turns the car back on. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “I got kind of cold since you took all of the blankets, but actually I was really comfy!” Wincing, Suga faces Daichi and offers a sincere apology which he waves off. “It’s okay. You looked so warm in your little cocoon that I didn’t want to wake you up.” He glances outside to their tent, which is still upright. Pochi whines, reminding them of his existence and probable need to pee since he has been holding it for about twenty-four hours at this point. A glance at the dash informs them it is thirty degrees fahrenheit outside. “I really don’t want to go out there,” Daichi admits. 

“Me neither.” 

They are quiet as they ruminate on all the things they are supposed to do outside today. It is Daichi who offers up, “Maybe we can just go home. We can hike anywhere.” 

The suggestion is a beacon of light for the lost. Suga is sure his expression is pleading and hopeful when he faces his husband, so excited is he at the prospect of leaving this god-forsaken area of the state. “You want to?” he gushes.

“Yeah, if you do.” 

“Yep, I’m totally down.” The warm air of the car seems lighter. Just knowing that if he gets out into the cold he can jump right back into the car endows Suga with the energy he needs to survive this morning. “Let’s start packing!” 

10:45AM

After the most efficient teardown they’ve ever managed, Suga rearranges their equipment in the SUV and they take a warm drive up to the summit of the tiny mountain. It looks prettier to Suga considering they did not have to hike here, and they snap a photo for posterity. Pochi pees for at least ninety seconds on a rock in a ruthless farewell. They drive back into town: first to a place that claims to have breakfast tacos wherein two old, bearded white guys mean-mug them into leaving; then down the street to the rustic drugstore/restaurant/gift shop back in town that Daichi’s coworker suggested. Maybe because he had faced death last night, or because it doesn’t come with a side of racism, or maybe just because the cook is awesome, Suga thinks the breakfast sandwich and four cups of coffee he orders are delicious. He pulls out his phone- now with LTE.

“According to Texas Parks and Wildlife, _javelinas_ venture around humans because they’re practically blind,” Suga informs around a mouthful of toast and sausage, “but aggressive encounters are rare. They usually run away if threatened.” 

“So we would’ve been fine.” 

“Probably.” 

Daichi snorts and shovels another bite of biscuits and gravy into his mouth. Unlike Suga, he chews and swallows before he ventures, “Do you want to go back and try another night? We have the site for two more days.” 

“Fuck no. Fuck this town and this park.” 

“Suga, there’s children right there.” 

“Sorry.” He’s not sorry. The children should know what their parents are getting them into. Sated, Suga wraps a leftover piece of sausage for Pochi and sticks it in his pocket- maybe he was a couple pounds overweight according to the vet, but he deserved it for surviving this harrowing experience. “I’m at least going to buy a coffee mug,” he informs Daichi. “So we can never forget.” He has a problematic collection of coffee mugs, but Daichi broke one a few weeks ago, so he deserves a replacement for surviving this harrowing experience. “You want anything to commemorate our survival?”

“I think I’m going to get a milkshake.” 

“Good choice.” 

They meet back up at the register. Daichi has two chocolate milkshakes, having forgotten that Suga is incredibly lactose intolerant. That’s his own funeral. Suga has acquired a sticker, mug and candle that claims to smell like Fort Davis. Despite that the town is comprised of dilapidated trailers and mean, bearded white men who glare at outsiders while eating Mexican food, the candle is actually really nice. 

“You know, by the time we get home we will have spent more time in the car than out of it,” Suga calculates as they settle back into the SUV. Pochi drools in anticipation of the sausage and already he seems happier. Suga does not blame him. 

Daichi wrinkles his nose as he plugs in his phone. “Well, at least I like driving,” he says. The intro to another true crime podcast plays; Suga brings out his iPad and opens a blank document. “What’re you writing about today?” he asks as he drives them out of Fort Davis, the armpit of Texas. 

Suga grins as he recalls the last twenty-four hours. “I think this trip is going to make a great story.” 


End file.
